Nature of the Beast One-Shot: Undermining Expectations
by MiniKoontzy
Summary: It's not every day one has a Predacon approach and ask to join your rescue crew seemingly out of the blue, but crew boss Groundhog is happy to have the Well Guardian Frostbite accept his job offer. His new recruit proves to be a valuable member of the team when one of the Energon refineries suffers a critical malfunction, engulfing it and those inside in chemical and Energon fires.
1. Chapter 1

**Nature of the Beast One-Shot: Undermining Expectations**

_I felt the need to expand a little on Frostbite's history, because it's a pretty intriguing one. I mean, a Predacon rescue worker? Come on. You know that's cool. :3  
_

_If you guys want this to be a short mini-series, like an RiD type rescue 'bots spin off, sound off in the comments!_

* * *

"Absolutely not."

The chief recruiter was a little mech just reaching up to the towering Groundhog's knee pike, beset by a serious scowl that had a little too much condescension and suspicion for his liking. He didn't even need to follow that look to know who it was being directed at. He felt the air temperature drop, and a low whining growl came from the white, quadrupedal form patiently sitting on his haunches in front of the table. He rather envied that offended yet still eminently respectful air the hound gave off despite the other wary or outright ugly looks that were being tossed the hound's way by the loose scattering of other individuals. He supposed he should be thankful the place wasn't any busier; he'd be getting a lot more of those looks if it were.

As politely as he could, Groundhog leaned forward and placed his hands on the table to better stare the little scraplet down, "Now, see here, sir –"

"I said no," the chief recruiter reiterated. "He's a Predacon. You know how much of a rift there is right now between us and them. Not to mention he doesn't qualify for the role you seek to apply him for. He has no tank to speak of to carry large amounts of fire suppressant, nor a means to focus where it would be directed."

"He has a rime tank for liquid nitrogen," Scalpel argued, "and his fangs direct it."

"Oh, yes, how useful a freezing bite would be when a _building has gone up in flames_," deadpanned the recruiter in such scathing sarcasm it took all Groundhog's will not to pick him up and crumple him into a lob ball.

The whining growl of the hound transitioned to a snarl as he rose halfway. Scalpel put a hand on his helm and he sat back down.

"If you cannot obey basic protocol, then step aside and let someone who can. Next!"

"Hey, jerkface, you stopped to think that his being a Pred would be, like, _super_ useful to us?" protested the lanky green mech on his left.

"Scuffs –" he warned.

The young, impertinent Velocitronian ignored him. "And that, like, we can outfit him with the suppressant tanks so he _does _qualify? Just slap a harness on him that holds the tanks, get some piping and some hose heads, and boom – mobile anti-fire unit. Problem solved," he folded his arms victoriously.

"Then perhaps that should've been done _before _you came to apply him," the recruiter snipped back.

Groundhog got the sense the recruiter would have been obstinate even if they _had_ done that. Besides, it wasn't as if he and Scalpel had had time to consider the intricacies of a suppressant delivery system custom-designed for a Predacon. The young beast had shown up at the last minute and the recruiting office would have closed by the time they had had even a rudimentary prototype to show. Strictly speaking the young hunter was not supposed to be there in the city in the first place, much less be in the city center. Once Frostbite went back, the scent data would reveal the game, and he'd probably be banned from ever going into the city again. They either got him set up now, thus legally preventing Predaking banning him, or never.

"Look," he sighed, "no one else stepped up the role. He did. Whether you like him or not, he'd be a valuable asset overall. If we made you a promise to outfit him with the necessary equipment for this role, can we go ahead and sign him up? I don't think you want to have someone report you for discrimination, _sir_, and you _don't_ want that someone to be me."

The recruiter arced a brow ridge. "Is that a threat, Groundhog?"

He took the cue to loom over the table and glower down at him, "You bet it is," he grunted. "I will personally ensure you don't leave this building until you say yes. Seems only fair, don't you think? You block him, I block you."

"And what's stopping me from calling security and having you removed from the premises?"

He laid his hands on the table and leaned into the obstinate devil's faceplates, "I am," he growled back.

A hint of alarm glimmered in the recruiter's gaze. He shrank halfway into his seat. One hand scooched the datapad on the table forward. "Sign here," he squeaked.

He took the stylus and signed. Giving one last glower at the recruiter, he turned and thudded for the door. Two loiterers were quick to move out of the way. Frostbite wove past him in a brisk, professional trot, but once outside the Canipid's stiff posture loosened, like a statue had been animated. The only hint that he was still on guard was the wandering gaze and the pinned back audials. He made sure to keep the pup between him and Scalpel as they walked. It had rained earlier that solar cycle and there was still a smattering of acidic puddles draining into the gutters. He couldn't trust some jerk driver not to take advantage of that. Primus knew _someone _would see him and try it. The very least he could do was offer some shielding for when it did happen.

The hound noticed the positioning after a block or two. [...Don't have to.]

Groundhog glanced down at the Canipid, grinning. "'Course I do. You're one of us now. Officially. Mess with the wolf, mess with the pack."

"Yeah!" Scuffs agreed. "And if someone gives you problems like that _kej_ at the station, feel free to bite 'em. We'll cover for you."

"We?" Scalpel repeated coldly without even gracing the youth with a sideways glance.

Scuffs rolled his optics, "You aren't fooling, like, _anyone_, needle-fingers. You'd totally cover for him too."

Scalpel's expression was blank as the medic kept walking, but the tiniest hint of a smirk forming and vanishing resulted in a victorious "HA!" from Scuffs and a finger pointed in her face.

The hound briefly looked up at them. [Not pack yet. But sentiment appreciated.]

"You talk funny," Scuffs said through a laugh.

"Scuffs!" snapped Scalpel.

"What?" he shrugged back. "I'm just _observing_! Isn't that what you science types do?"

"Yes, but we do it _politely_," grunted Groundhog, "so the fully sentient subject _isn't offended_?"

Scuffs shrugged, "He doesn't look offended." Which, in the youth's defense, was true. So Scuffs took that as permission to keep going. He trotted ahead of the wolf to walk backwards in front of him. "Hey, _have _you ever bitten anyone before? What's the biggest thing you've ever killed? Is it true you guys eat retro-rats?!"

Scalpel finally offered Scuffs a deadpanning scowl, "Is being polite too much for that ruined slagheap you call a processor?"

"Yeah. Too much," Scuffs chirped through an unrepentant grin, folding his arms behind his helm.

The femme kicked his heel strut. Scuffs, though he tripped halfway, laughed. That laugh cut off _very_ abruptly when someone on the road sped past, splashing acid onto Groundhog and shouting an obscenity directed at him and Frostbite. He was tempted to proclaim "Called it!" but refrained. Scalpel grabbed the instantly furious youth by his spoiler before he could race after them. The half-running struggle he put up to get free might've made Groundhog laugh in another circumstance, with his legs needlessly scraping the ground and his arms flailing. This time, he was genuinely happy Scalpel had such a tight grip on the kid. He feared if she let go, he'd shoot forward as if fired from a sling-shot and wouldn't stop until he'd cornered the harasser and given them a good beating.

"Don't give them a reaction. That's what they're after," Scalpel hissed in his audial.

"Fine! I'll give 'em a reaction!" snarled Scuffs, and proceeded to loose a string of profanities so obscene that only a devil-may-care Velocitronian could pull off guilt-free.

Some of the other 'bots in the vicinity tossed shocked looks towards him. Scuffs didn't care. Scuffs didn't even _notice_.

Groundhog clamped a hand down over the smaller mech's helm and walked him forward. Scuffs grumbled some more choice words. Scalpel let go of the boy. He walked. And they kept walking, all the way to his lab on the south side of Iacon. Then and _only_ then did he release Scuffs from his grip.

"Now, let's keep that promise we made and get you outfitted," Groundhog grunted. "Scal, get a detailed physical on him, would you?"

He brought up her prior scans of the beast as a holo-display as the medic nodded and gestured for the Canipid to join her her under a patch of industrial lighting. He seemed somewhat uncomfortable with Scalpel's long, needle-like digits poking and prodding under his armor, more so when she removed some of it to see beneath it. But he didn't complain. He didn't complain when those same digits toyed with his audial hinges, or messed with his claws, or tested the weight and joints on his tail. Not even Scalpel forcing his mouth open and sticking her fingers damn near down his throat warranted any protest. No growl, no whine, no body language at all surfaced that said "don't."

He smiled wryly through the blue ghost of the hologram, "Y'know, you _are _allowed to complain if she does something you don't like. Triage Code," he said.

Frostbite gave him a funny side glance yet stubbornly refused to make a fuss.

"Done."

Scalpel released him. She handed him a cube of medical grade to make up for the prodding. Frostbite didn't seem to know what to do with it. He sniffed it, shoved it, acted confused by it.

"Dude, you just drink it. It's not that hard," Scuffs said through a grin.

Frostbite looked down at the cube, then back up.

"What? D'you guys not use cubes?"

Scalpel got a gleam in her optics and left the lab. So he went back to his hologram and the design schematics. Scuffs' idea of a harness would probably work best, he decided, though a full cargo was going to weigh him down. There was no way around that. Unless he could work that rime tank into the design...Might spare the beast some weight if he could supply some of his own flame suppressant on the go. Scalpel would have to surgically add some tubes to the tank to get that to work though. They'd have to put Frostbite under for that.

Scalpel came back roughly a breem later – with a dead retro-rabbit of all things in one hand.

Scuffs gagged, "Eww! Gross!"

Groundhog eyed her, "Scal, please tell me you didn't get that from the biology wing..."

Scalpel didn't answer. She offered the animal to Frostbite. The Canipid seemed moments away from chomping down on it but then pulled away. His audials pinned back.

[Put back.] he told her. [Can hunt later.]

Scalpel shrugged off the dismissal and left to return it. She came back in half the time. "You've got your blueprints ready?"

He flicked the floating hologram over to her. "What do you think?"

Her sharp gaze bored into the design. Her detailed scan of his body, inside and out, quickly overlapped with his design. It was appraised in silence for a few moments. Then a faint smile formed. She looked at him and nodded.

"Frostbite," he said, "For this particular design to work, Scal will need to make some small modifications to your rime tank system. That will require some minor surgery. Is that alright with you?"

The nervous glimmer in his optics said "No". Scalpel looked disappointed at not being able to pick apart his most notable organ.

"Alright. Then we won't," he conceded. "We can make this work another way."

He gathered what he needed out of the storage bays and began. The wolf sat in silence for a while but it wasn't long before he heard him approach.

[Can watch?]

"'Course. It's _your _harness."

He was taken aback when Frostbite reared onto his hind legs and planted his front paws onto the table. The pup looked on with avid interest, audials perked straight up. He'd seen that look a few times from his time as a substitute professor _– _the look of noting down every little thing to memory out of pure fascination. Not once did the Canipid take his optics off the harness. Once he was done welding, soldering, and adding wires and circuits, he hefted it off the table, and with its descent came Frostbite's own.

"Alright, then. Let's see how this feels, eh?"

Frostbite stood still as the harness was clamped into place.

"Now, how's that?"

The Canipid shrugged his shoulders and back, lifted his paws in bicycling motions, and trotted around.

[Is good.] he grunted.

"Try to control the spouts, please. Test the wireless signal."

The spouts lifted and fell. The wolf's optics lit up and the spouts wiggled some more. His tail wagged.

"Good. Perfect!" he exclaimed. "Now, do you want it off or do you want to break it in some more?"

The wolf went with the latter option. He nodded and gestured that he was free to roam.

"Just keep in mind those tanks will add some extra weight when they're full," he warned him.

[Understood.] and he continued to plod around the lab.

"Sooo...what do we do now?" wondered Scuffs. "I mean, we can't exactly ask him to stay here until something happens. That could be solar cycles. Predaking might come barging in to take him back if he's gone too long, and then ban him completely from ever coming back."

"I'm sure he wouldn't be _that _disagreeable," Groundhog mused. Ban him? Sure. Drag him back by force though?

"Ch-Yeah. Wanna bet?" the youth scoffed.

But as the kliks became breems and the breems turned into a full joor, no one came busting down the door to the lab, least of all an infuriated bronze giant. There was nothing on the police radio chatter either. That felt like reassurance enough. If Predaking _were_ on his way, rampaging through Iacon, he was pretty sure the cop lines would be lighting up like firecrackers at a Terran New Year's celebration.

Frostbite's audials pricked up suddenly and his focus snapped in one particular direction.

"Uh, Frostbite?" he wondered. "Something wrong?"

[...heard something.]

"..._Iacon East Sector!_" a voice cried over the line. "_Does anyone read?! 12-42! Any emergency response teams nearby please respond pronto!_"

He was only allowed a moment to appreciate what had just happened, and even in that short time it boggled his mind.

"Underminers read!" Scalpel answered. "Situation?"

"_Some kind of explosion at one of the Energon refineries! South quadrant!_"

"Scuffs!" Groundhog barked.

"On it!" the Velocitronian assured and then vanished out the door in a blur.

"Scuffs is en route, officer," Scalpel updated. "We'll join him shortly."

"Set up a perimeter! Don't let anyone near that place until I can assess the damage!" Groundhog urged.

"_Already working on that!_"

Groundhog turned away from the table and readied to bolt out the door only to notice that Frostbite had vanished.

"Slag it all, boy," he groaned.

* * *

There was no need to shadow Scuffs to know his exact destination. He could smell it: a bright burn in his olfactory sensors. He could hear it, too: a hubbub of noise. Sirens and panicked voices. When he reached the location, a big building spewing blue flames, Scuffs was already darting around the perimeter to get every angle checked, in the process unceremoniously shoving civilians and officers alike out of the way. He felt a shift in the air when those individuals saw him skid to a stop.

"Predacon!" one cried.

"What's it doing here?!" another demanded.

Scuffs got right in their faces without further ado. "Hey!" he snapped. "He's with _me_! Lay off!"

[Situation?] Frostbite wondered.

"Can't say for sure," Scuffs admitted. "The flames are makin' it hard to get any life signal readings."

In answer, Frostbite pricked his audials and listened.

"_...exit? I can't find _–"

"_Help! Someone_ _help! I'm stuck!_"

[Trapped workers.] he reported.

Scuffs blinked. "Slag, dude. You can hear them in there?"

[Yes.]

"How many?"

[At least a dozen.]

"Scrap. How're we supposed to get to the–"

A loud _Kra-BOOOOOM_ cut Scuffs short. One of the huge towers went up in flames from the base up and with a loud groan began to keel to the side.

"Sweet Solus!" one officer exclaimed.

The tower fell in a ground-shaking crash.

"All o' ya'll get back!" came Groundhog's gruff voice.

The civilians and officers did as told.

"Frosty says there're workers in there, boss!" Scuffs said.

"Frostbite! C'mere!"

The Canipid trotted towards the giant mech. Groundhog hefted a huge canister from a trailer he'd hitched, put a funnel to its nozzle, and let the freezing chemicals flow into the harness's tanks. Once full, he removed the nozzle and lugged the canister aside. The weight was not unbearable; not much heavier than an adult spring-horn.

"How the heck do we get him up there, though?" Scuffs wondered. "He can't fly!"

"And we can't trust the lifts haven't been damaged. Slag me!" Groundhog swore. "Scal?!"

"He's too big and heavy for me to carry," Scalpel admitted. "Without the harness I might be able to, but with it _– _there's no way."

Frostbite turned towards the fallen spire, saw what he was looking for, and turned and sprinted towards it. The civilians and officers yelped as he broke through their ranks.

"Frostbite?! What're you doing?!" Scuffs exclaimed. "The building's _that_ way!"

He skidded to a stop about half a klick from the spire. Heavy claws burst from his paws and dug into the metal ground. He offered a short prayer to Onyx and then flung himself forward towards the tip of the fallen spire. One leap landed him on the spire. He kept running, all the way up its length, never taking his sight off the broken wall that stared back at him. Once he reached the upended spire's base, he funneled all power into his hind legs and leapt again. Halfway through the jump he knew it wasn't enough though. He thought fast, unhinged his jaw, and sank his fangs onto the sill. Claws burst out again to dig into the wall, but he couldn't gain enough leverage to pull himself up. The tanks were too heavy.

One hind paw slipped loose. He yelped.

He heard the crowd issue a collective gasp.

"_What're you idiots standing there for? HELP HIM!_" bellowed Scuffs far below.

"_I got him! Regolith, give him a boost!_"

He heard something whistle through the air to impact the outer wall right below him.

"I gotcha!" a cheerful little voice assured. "Put your paws on me!"

He dared release his jaws from the sill and let his hind paws fall – and found a solid, albeit small, platform was there to meet them. With the mini-con's help he was able to heft himself the rest of the way in, whereupon heat washed over his snout.

[Head for the main chamber, Frostbite!] Groundhog ordered. [If you can cut off the reactions there, rescuing the workers will be safer!]

[Where is that?]

[Heart of the facility! Just keep heading further in! Follow the conduits!]

By conduits he assumed Groundhog meant the strange piping that snaked along the walls. So he ran; not for the facility's core, but towards the closest voice he'd heard. He bounded through the corridors until he found the source of the shouting: a collapsed chamber. Blue flames roared through the buckled door frame. Something fell inside and the voice let out another panicked cry for help. He gave a quick bark to alert the occupant and then began to shimmy through the rubble. Whatever could be moved was pushed out of the way by paw or snout. He soon made it into the room and found it consumed by blue flames, with a foul acrid sting in the air that warned of burning chemicals. He aimed the spouts at the hottest point and He soon caught sight of the trapped individual under a collapsed part of the floor above: a little mini-bot mech too small to extricate himself from the rubble. When the debris was pushed aside he found one of his legs twisted out of its hip socket and leaking precious blue.

The mini-bot yelped when he saw him. "Predacon!"

He whined and flattened his audials. *_Underminer. __Can help. Let me?_*

"Help?"

He offered his snout forward, carefully grabbed hold of the good leg, and pulled him free. The mini-bot whined when the bad leg shifted.

*_Scalpel. Wounded. Bad leg. Dislocated hip. Orders?_*

*_Put a little liquid nitrogen around the joint. That should dull the pain by disabling the nerve bundles in that region. I'll be able to get him proper once the flames are contained._*

He opened his maw and positioned his right fang. The mini-bot understandably panicked.

*_Will help. Hold still._*

"No way am I letting you bite me! I don't know where those fangs have been! That can't be hygienic!"

He wanted desperately to roll his optics at him. Of course his fangs were clean. He'd been taught since a mere pup to keep his fangs pristine.

*_Healer Scalpel's idea. Please. Have others to help. Time wasting._*

Out of options, the mini-bot mech nervously kept still and let his fang puncture just slightly into his hip, eliciting a faint whine. Moments later, his expression became shocked.

"I can't feel it anymore," he gasped.

Explosions went off in the background.

He offered his snout again. *_Grab._*

The mini-bot latched on. He let out a little shriek when he started pushing him towards the far wall.

"Where are you going?!" the mini-bot demanded, panicked.

Frostbite paused at the wall. A good helping of liquid nitrogen was squirted onto his glossa before he slathered the liquid over the wall.

"What in the Allspark do you think you're doing?" the mini-bot wondered in flat amazement.

Once a large enough area had been coated, he spun around and kicked the wall as hard as he could. After three good kicks the metal wall shattered. He then pushed the mini-bot towards the edge before popping his head out into the open air. Fliers from other rescue crews had joined the efforts and were busy dumping more flame suppressants. Scalpel was hovering nearby on the lookout for patients. Scuffs was suspended by a tether below her.

He barked.

"_There! There he is!_" he heard Scuffs shout.

Scalpel honed in. "I've got him, Frostbite! Keep going!"

He grunted, turned, and ran back inside. He kept following the conduits like Groundhog had told him to, but he was really following the smell of the fires; the hotter Energon fires burned, the sourer they smelled. The sound of the fire got louder too, rising from a low growl to a mighty roar that made it hard to hear any other trapped civilians.

He put down any notable fires as he went, leaving a trail for others to use.

*_Frostbite, me and 'Hog are in!_* Scuffs hollered. *_Any civvies you find, mark 'em so we can grab 'em!_*

*_Noted._*

Two more rooms were passed where he heard civilians. He pinged each time so Groundhog could note his position.

At last, the bitter smell and the roar hit their peak. The conduits came to a stop before two large doors that were starting to turn deep red from the heat inside. He sprayed another thin coat of nitrogen on them and kicked the obstacle down before jumping out of the way. Blue flames spat forth from the opening like a wall of tongues, searching for more material to consume. They were quickly put down with a torrent of flame suppressant, and he leapt into the main chamber. He blindly spewed more suppressant wherever he saw fire until he could see a little more clearly. The room itself was huge. The explosion had been so intense that one of the walls had been blown through, part of the roof had collapsed inward, and tiered walkways had fallen to leaved a tangled mess that would be difficult to navigate. Huge machines with two flat heads lay scattered around in the mess; the conveyor belts that fed them were frozen. Large vats of Energon and other chemicals, fed by tubing, sat around the chamber too. The flames and smoke were the worst around those. He aimed the nozzles at those.

"No! Don't!" someone cried.

Frostbite's attention snapped to his right. Across the room, a worker was trapped under a fallen chemical vat and stuck behind two large tubes of Energon that had been set alight in the explosion.

He barked at her, audials perked upright. He doused the flames and tried his best to heave the vat off the worker. It rolled after some work.

"Thanks," the worker, a tall femme, gasped. "But don't go for the vats! You need to go after the tubing feeding them! Especially the main converter!" she pointed to a big thing that lay protected by the fallen roofing and walkways. "We weren't able to get it shut down before the explosion happened! The fire will keep getting fuel unless we get it shut off!"

Another wave of fuel made the vats flame brighter. An explosion from elsewhere in the facility was big enough to rattle the chamber. One vat, already moments away from tipping, was rocked so badly that it keeled over, spilling flaming Energon onto the floor. He put the fire out before it could spread.

He turned back to the converter, only to realize a problem: actually reaching it looked impossible. There was too much heavy debris in the way. He would need more liquid nitrogen to make any headway.

Frostbite began to pant heavily.

_Error_. _No atmospheric chemicals suited for cryogenic distillation. _

He growled, startling the worker.

He turned to her. *_Need chemicals. Make liquid nitrogen. Have any?_*

The worker thought fast. "I think we have some liquid oxygen up in one of the vats up there," she pointed. "There's a smaller tank next to it –"

He bolted before she even had the chance to finish her sentence. Luckily, with the way the ceiling had caved in, it made something of a ramp up to the second floor. The tank in question had a valve at the bottom. He flicked it with a paw and put his mouth under it.

"You're _drinking it?_!" the femme worker exclaimed from below. "Are you sure that's _safe_?!"

He ignored her surprise. Soon, his rime tank was full.

He leapt back down and began to weave through the warped metal. He could feel some of the warped metal bars of the walkways scrape his hide. When he reached a huge slab of metal, he slathered it the same way he had done the wall. He wasn't able to kick it in the cramped quarters, so slammed his tail into it instead. He was surprised when he heard a yelp from behind the slab. Breaking through revealed another worker: a mini-con. He couldn't see any major injuries. He gently snatched her by the helm in his jaws before she could think to protest, pulled her free, and laid her behind him in a spot he deemed safe. She looked too stunned to even vocalize what had just happened. That was fine by him. Any time not spent in needless discourse was time saved.

He grunted and kept pushing forward through the debris maze. At last, after some final squirming and squeezing, he reached the machine.

Another problem made itself apparent quickly: the control panel for the machine was a wreck. He was fairly confident it would not be taking any input.

He gaze went up. Huge tubes filled with Energon spiraled upwards around a central column _– _and the base of those tubes was within reach.

He leapt onto the control panel, reared up on his hind legs, clamped down one of the tubes, and yanked his helm sideways. The tube ripped free just as it tore open, spraying Energon onto his optics and all over his body. Not being able to see was a nuisance. But he didn't need to see to get the other four tubes: he could smell them. Four more vigorous yanks later left him painted bright blue, unable to smell anything else but Energon. Having two senses down proved a problem: without sight or smell, retracing his steps to get the rest of the fires put out would be extremely challenging. He risked hurting himself if he moved among the debris.

Whining, frustrated, he pawed the ground. Vainly he tried to wipe the Energon off his optics.

Then, a touch on his snout.

"Hold on! Hold on, wolfy! I've got you!"

A digit touched his optics. A few swipes later and he saw who to thank: the little mini-con he'd placed out of harms way.

He grunted wordless thanks, leapt over her, and went for the still-burning vats. Their bellowing fires receded upon contact with the stream of flame suppressant.

By the time he'd doused the last vat, the roar from the fires had quieted to the loud hiss of flame suppressants dousing other fires all around him. The sour smell of the flames was now a chilly sting in his olfactory sensors.

He pricked his audials. He could hear no more shouts for help from inside the facility.

He went back to the mini-con, laid down, and indicated her to hop aboard. He then went for the other femme worker. Her extremely slender legs appeared to be too damaged to allow it. Not knowing how else to move her, he helped her position herself in such a way that he could drag her backwards. He tried to keep her as steady as possible to avoid any pain flares. She was a strong one though. No pained whine came from her.

"This is undignified," the worker chuckled wryly after a while.

He snorted. Better undignified than dead.

He smelled clear air at last. They were approaching an exit. Exit meant medics.

"Hey! HEY! Get your jaws off her!" someone agitated called from behind him.

A loud _CHANG_ warned someone else had struck back, literally.

"Weren't you paying attention, dunce bucket?" spat an irritated Scuffs. "He's with _us_. He's _helping._"

"How is dragging a wounded worker on the ground like a dead spring-horn _helping_, Scuffs?"

"Because he doesn't have arms, you twat. How else was he supposed to move her? _Levitate _her?!"

A big mech thudded up behind him and rounded to the front. He tried to take his wounded charge from him. Frostbite growled at him. He would not allow her to be lifted; doing so would cause too much movement, which would create pain. His way might be undignified, but at least it kept her legs relatively immobile. The big mech backed off once he, too, realized that.

Frostbite snorted and resumed his reverse walk, dragging the wounded worker along. The big mech actually seemed somewhat impressed at how careful he was being.

"Hang a left," the big mech suggested.

He went left. The smell of fresh air got stronger.

"'Nother left and then a right."

"Needle-fingers, we got another comin' your way. Gimpy legs," Scuffs reported.

They reached the huge rend in the wall where the big tower structure had broken free and collapsed. Scalpel met them at the edge. Scuffs took a strange flat thing from Scalpel, bound the worker's legs to it, and with help from the big mech, Scalpel then ferried her down to the ground.

*_Hold,_* he warned his mini-con passenger.

She tucked in and gripped her tiny hands below a neck plate, then shrieked as he launched himself out into the air to land jarringly on the collapsed tower. He tensed as he slid down its length a ways before his claws came out to halt his progress. From there, he carefully walked the rest of the ways. Upon reaching ground, he laid down to let his passenger dismount. She seemed a little reluctant to leave him though, so he urged her on with a snout bump.

He didn't know what to do now though. All civilians were rescued and the fire was more or less put out. Were they to return home now?

He rose and trotted towards the safety perimeter. Some of civilians behind it instinctively became skittish. One of the officers, however, approached him with a much kindlier light in his optics.

"Nice work in there, doggy," the mech smiled. Then he laughed a little, "You seriously need a bath before that stuff starts to cake though."

He sat down and scratched his neck with a hind paw. Indeed. It was already drying and starting to itch. But he rather doubted they had a hose on standby for such a specific reason.

"Here, lemme at least get some of that stuff off your nose," offered the mech.

Frostbite was grateful for it. Being able to smell again, he could detect the scents of Groundhog, Scuffs, and Scalpel nearby, so it was towards them he trotted. Scalpel was still tending to the femme worker he'd rescued in the main chamber. Not even ten paces away, a different medic was finishing treating the little mini-bot he'd rescued at the very start. Both civilians looked happy to see him.

*_Should_ _go_,* he told Groundhog.

Groundhog glanced back at the smouldering facility. "Mm. Fire looks contained."

"Thanks in no small part to him," the femme worker declared, nodding at Frostbite. "I'd be flambéed if not for him."

He bowed. He would have wasted precious suppressant if not for her intervention, he reminded her.

"Shame about the building though," grumbled Groundhog, "but the construction crews'll get it back in working order pretty quick, I reckon."

He gave one more bow to the others before turning and trotting off.

Scuffs trotted after him. "Where're you goin', dude?"

*_Home_*

"Back to the lab?"

*_No. Home._*

"Hey, wait! You want me to get that harness off ya, first?" bellowed Groundhog.

*_No. Want to show him._*

At that, he broke into a sprint and raced towards the south entrance of Iacon.

* * *

Predaking paced and growled as as a dozen worst-case scenarios threatened to burst into flame. Something had to have happened to Frostbite. The pup had been disappearing during his scouting trips for the past lunar cycle. He would always return, but the last scouting trip had had him encounter some law officers who had taken less-than-kindly to his presence so close to Iacon. Frostbite's idealism would get him hurt or killed by those weak, scared little –

"Predaking, I am certain he is fine," urged Ser-Ket. "Do you recall how those Kaonian miners reacted to meeting him? _They_ did nothing to hurt him."

"A small minority," he growled back. "They cannot be trusted not to let their fear of us overwrite rational judgement."

"Agreed, yet you cannot –"

Ser-Ket stopped mid-sentence upon hearing a bark. Predaking whirled towards it. Frostbite bounded towards them, his whole front stained bright blue, and with a strange _thing _wrapped around his midsection. His first impulse was anger – Frostbite had been hurt. But when Frostbite approached, he was forced to admit that such a thought was unwarranted. Frostbite was _not_, in fact, hurt.

Frostbite whined and bowed in submission. "__Æfænder__," he greeted formally.

Predaking eyed him. "What...? What is that?" he pointed.

"_Flame suppressant harness. Scuffs suggested it. Groundhog made it._"

"Scuffs? Groundho–_you went into the_ _city?!_" he cried. "Frostbite, I've told you repeatedly not to –"

"_I helped._"

"What?"

"_I helped. They were grateful._"

"Grateful once, perhaps," he growled, "but I will not risk luck or your safety a second time. Henceforth, you are banned from entering Iacon."

But Frostbite gave him a steely look that could have frozen a forest fire. "_You cannot._"

"Excuse me?"

"_I am enlisted with a rescue crew. I am needed. You cannot ban me._"

Predaking stood stunned for a moment, surprised at both the pup's audacity and his shrewd strategy.

"_You do not trust the cities. But what if we earned it, their trust? Helping them can ease tensions, prove to them that we are not wild_ _savages_. _Trust will be earned. I will earn it._"

"Very well, Frostbite," he conceded. "I will permit you to return to Iacon whenever needed to aid this crew – but _only _when needed."

Frostbite did not look thrilled but he yielded to his ruling.

"Now let's get you cleaned up. And get that _thing_ off you," suggested Ser-Ket.

* * *

**Author's Note: I've got other stories in progress for main stories. Just really wanted to get this one done. ^-^**


	2. Chapter 2

**Nature of the Beast One-Shot: Unearthing Similarities**

_WhatLies wanted this to be a mini-series, so here we go! Frostbite being a very good boi: round two! :D_

* * *

When he woke, he felt like he was being crushed: a sharp pressure relentlessly biting down on his whole frame. Once the dazed fog began to lift, he realized it wasn't just a sensation. In the dark, he could tell there was something huge crushing him from all angles, though mostly from above – probably what remained of the tunnel's roof and upper walls. He quickly remembered how it had gotten there: the tunnel shaking and buckling around him as explosions had rocked all around. Below him, tucked neatly under his belly, was a mini-con miner, curled up into a crescent shape with his hands crossed to shield his face. He'd barely had time to fling himself on top of the miner to protect him. The mini-con was alive though; he could tell that much from the gentle rattling of his armor. He snorted and nudged him; the little mini-con's face came out of hiding.

"Thanks, mutt," the tiny miner gasped.

He nudged him as he held back a pained whine. Anything to keep him calm.

"_Frostbite! Say somethin'!_" a booming male voice shouted from nearby.

The icy Canipid managed a weak whine.

"In here! We're over here!" the mini-con shouted.

"_'Ey! __I heard Drillbit! He's in there!_"

Pounding trods echoed louder and louder as the miners re-grouped. The metal debris behind him soon began to shift. But if anything, that made the pain worse.

He whined louder. They needed to stop. They were taking the lower support out first which was only making the weight on top of him greater.

"_Hold it, you lugs! You're crushing 'im in there!_" a stronger female voice bellowed. "_Top first!_"

"_But we can't reach the top!_"

Frostbite growled. He could not move his helm up enough to fire liquid nitrogen from his fangs. He could not use his harness to escape either; he could feel its precious cargo leaking in a consistent frozen stream. The falling debris must have punctured the tubing or the tanks.

He opened a line and barked: [Groundhog! Help!]

* * *

_Earlier..._

Frostbite supposed he should be thankful Predaking had not banned him from his patrols. He wasn't sure what he would do with himself if he wasn't able to rove freely; that was half the appeal of the patrols. The other half was the miners. They were a...different sort than the so-called "refined" city-dwellers of Iacon or Kaon. Miners tended to be rough and abrasive in contrast to the "civility" of the cities, but in his experience, they were kind-sparked more often than not. One Kaonian mine in particular had become a mainstay along his routes. Finding them was never a difficult task, either, even if their workplace tended to move around. Though they worked deep below the surface, and thus were out of sight, he found the miners more commonly occupied the realm of sound than sight or smell. Their bawdy, raucous singing always proved to be the most reliable means of pinning down their position. Judging by what he could hear of them now, they were about two klicks to the north of him and about a klick below.

Upon reaching their mine shaft, he peered in and issued a quick bark in greeting. As soon as they heard it, their song ceased and a chorus of shouts and hollers greeted him back.

Taking that as an invitation, he trotted down into the shaft and followed the tunnel. He found them scattered about in an open chamber lit by bright work lanterns. Some of the miners were manning snarling, growling drills while others took a more traditional approach with their claw-like picks. Huge beams lay piled on the ground. It looked like they were shoring up the tunnel they were in. Wise.

"'Ey! There's the mutt!" the littlest member, a mini-con, cried. "Been a while!"

The mini-con tossed him a fresh Energon crystal which was quickly shattered in Frostbite's jaws. He hadn't exactly worked for it, but turning down charity, it seemed, was always poor form.

The biggest of them all, a giant, somewhat surly faced titan of a femme, grinned and patted his head. "How you been, beastie?"

Frostbite's tail swished. *_Well. Thank you, Cleat,_* he answered.

"Saw you on that news report a deca-cycle ago," the big femme admitted. "Kinda surprised those uppity pencil-pushers let you join a crew, not gonna lie."

*_Groundhog's_ _doing,_* he clarified.

Another miner, a wiry mech, let out a paradoxically loud and bellowing laugh, "Leave it to ol' Groundhog to back 'em into a corner and force their hand!"

The miners let out a rowdy cheer for Groundhog's nobility.

"Nice backpack ya got there," the mini-con, Drillbit, complimented.

*_Thank you. Proven useful._*

Cleat put a hand on her heavy hip and smiled. "You gonna stick around for a bit or are you just poppin' in?"

He assured the head miner he could stay. Until he was called into the city for work he was free to do as he pleased. Further, and perhaps more importantly, Predaking had tasked him with building trust among city-dwellers.

"Oh-hoh, orders from the big mech, huh?" the wiry mech, Seam, chortled.

Frostbite held him helm up proudly. *_I...influenced that. Forcibly._*

Seam grinned and slapped his leg. "No wonder you signed up with ol' 'Hog! You take after him!"

"Well, if you're sticking around, let's not keep you bored and chatting! I know you _hate _that," Cleat declared. "Come on! We got something to show you!"

Cleat lead Frostbite deeper into the tunnel. The further they went, the older and less cared for the passageway appeared. They would get to it eventually, he knew, and they were a careful group, but he couldn't help feeling a little wary. That wariness was not misplaced, either, as at the end of their tunnel was a wall with a very faint Decepticon crest etched into the metal. He knew it wasn't an actual wall, even without the crest as a hint; he could hear the sound of the planet's inner workings softly chugging beyond the wall, with an echo to the sound that implied another chamber or passage lay just past it.

"Old War tunnel, I think," mused Cleat, "one the city looks to have missed."

Frostbite looked up to eye her. What did she plan to do about it? It had a Decepticon insignia. It could be dangerous.

"Of course it's _dangerous,_" the femme huffed. "Their tunnels were said to be shakier than a razorsnake's rattle. So what we'll do is pop our helms in and give the place a nice shore-up. Sound good?"

He nodded. That was wise.

*_Can help?_* he wondered.

Cleat hemmed for a moment as she looked him over. "If I remember my chemistry right, that stuff you squirt out your fangs makes things fragile, yeah?"

He nodded. Exactly why he had coated a wall in the refinery with it: to break the wall more easily, thereby forcing an exit.

"Then how about you do the honors of gettin' us in, eh? Might be safer than using a big, clanky drill. I'll get my boys in here with their picks to break through."

He could see the logic behind the argument. He trotted up to the wall and slathered a healthy dose of liquid nitrogen while Cleat went back to gather her miners. By the time she returned with them, the wall was coated and ready. Drillbit and Seam got to work picking away at the now fragile metal until, with a sound somewhere between cracking ice and snapping metal, the center of the wall gave way. Stale air rushed out to greet them, and with it a faint storm of rust particles. When it cleared, a passageway somewhat larger than theirs stretched into the darkness.

"Talk about spooky," Drillbit noted.

Seam whistled. "That place ain't been opened for a long time. You sure this is smart, Cleat?"

"Preventing a disaster is always smart, Seam. Go get your pals and your things. We got work to do."

"Aye, boss."

The two mechs ran off and returned in due course with help and supplies. They set up to work swiftly, securing the entrance first.

"Y'know, I heard 'Con tunnels tended to be trapped to the Pit and back," noted Seam nervously.

"Good point. Frostbite, could you check around?" requested Cleat.

"I'll go with you," offered Drillbit.

Cleat permitted it.

The Canipid grunted and, with Drillbit at his side, he slunk off with Drillbit in the lead. The brightness of Drillbit's work lantern created sharp, ominous shadows that rose and fell as they traveled. As bright as it was, he could not see anything that blatantly looked like a trap, like mines or trip-wires. Frostbite assumed that if any traps were put down, they would have been near the entrance; that was the practical place to put them.

"Nothin'..." muttered Drillbit. "Think they never trapped this one, maybe?"

*_Doubtful,_* he growled back.

He slowed and sniffed while Drillbit stalked ahead. Predaking, as a warning, had shown him what some old Decepticon traps looked like through various senses. Mines, for example, usually had a distinct smell due to the volatile mix of chemicals and Energon used to detonate them. He could not detect that smell though. That was unnerving rather than reassuring. Any traps in the passage, then, had been intentionally hidden. Triggering one would become that much more likely.

Drillbit kept slowly walking forward. Then, after one step, there came a muffled explosion.

His audials pinned back. Onyx help them. Had that been...?

"Slag me. Was that what I think it was?" the little mini-con wondered nervously.

The passage began to quake as more explosions went off. Frostbite could even follow them: they seemed to have been laid in an arc over the tunnel and back towards the entrance.

"_Frostbite! Drillbit!_" Cleat hollered in alarm.

"_Brace yerselves!_" warned Seam.

The ceiling began to crumble in huge chunks along the explosion's path. Frostbite leapt and lunged at Drillbit, tucking him under his belly-plates and curling up just as bigger chunks rained down on top of him.

* * *

Frostbite woke again, in pain, feeling like a small mountain had been dropped on him in the worst possible way. Everything hurt, and he couldn't move. Drillbit was safely tucked beneath him, still trembling from fright, curled up to protect himself. A little nudge eased his fears; he uncurled and twisted his head to look up at him.

"Thanks, mutt," the little miner gasped.

He grunted and nudged him again. He would not bite back at him for the accident; it was more important to ensure his safety and those of his fellow miners.

"_Frostbite! Say somethin'!_" hollered Cleat.

Frostbite tried to bark. All that he could manage through the pain was a weak whine.

"Here! We're in here, boss!" Drillbit shouted.

"_'Ey! I heard Drillbit! He's in there!_"

He heard the panicked shouting of the other miners as they raced to help. That was good; they must have had time to brace the entrance area enough to avoid a total collapse. They rushed to start removing the debris, only for their aid to make his pain worse. Removing the base of the debris was only shifting more weight onto him.

"_Hold it, you lugs! You're crushing 'im in there!_" boomed Cleat. "_Top first!_"

"_We can't reach there!_" one miner argued.

"_And if we do, won't the rest of the ceiling fall?_" another noted.

"_Slag it, use your processors! Set up braces, then!_"

Frostbite growled. There was no way he could make this easier. He could not move his helm up enough to fire liquid nitrogen from his fangs. He could not use his harness to escape either. The falling debris must have punctured the tubing or the tanks.

He opened a line and barked: [Groundhog! Help!]

[Frostbite? What's wrong?]

[Stuck! Tunnel collapse! My location!]

Groundhog uttered an oath. [We're on our way!]

*_Cleat!_* he barked. *_Help is_ _coming!_*

"Not sure what help they can offer if they can't get in!" Seam protested. "A bulkhead locked us in when the trap triggered!"

Frostbite growled deeper. Whoever had rigged the passageway had been thorough, he would give them that. They were all retro-rabbits caught in a dead-ended burrow.

"I'll take any help I can get!" declared Cleat. "Keep working!"

Braces were put up to hold up the debris around him. Slowly but surely, the miners managed to clear a gap wide enough to slip some rebar through. At that point, tiny Drillbit squirmed out of hiding and began setting it up. The weight around him began to lift.

"Almost gotcha. Almost gotcha," Drillbit assured.

Finally, after one final pillar was set up, he felt the weight lift enough that he could move – and more importantly, push back on the weight. Frostbite rose up.

*_Grab!_*

Drillbit grabbed hold of his neck, but he felt caught as soon as he moved forward. Drillbit was quick to find the problem: his harness was caught around some of the debris.

"Oi! Throw a cutter!" the little miner barked.

Someone tossed in a laser cutter. The harness was quickly cut through. Drillbit urged him to "Go, go, go!" and the Canipid half-squirmed, half-slunk our of the debris. And not a moment too soon: the rickety rebar pillars trembled and buckled soon thereafter.

"Hooo that was close," Seam whistled.

Frostbite whined. So much for his harness. Not that he suspected it would have been much use in their current situation.

[Kid! We're here!] came Groundhog's voice.

Frostbite reported their arrival to the other miners. [Above?] he then asked.

[Yeah, we're right above you, I think. Tell me if you can hear this!] said Scuffs.

Frostbite urged the miners to be quiet before pricking his audials up. After a moment, he detected a persistent _clang clang clang!_ It sounded like Scuffs was stamping his trod down.

[Don't stamp, you idiot!] barked Groundhog. [You wanna cause another collapse?!]

Scuffs stopped stamping. [But how else was he gonna hear me?]

Groundhog sighed loudly.

"'Ey, can you patch us in, mutt?" asked Cleat.

Frostbite did so. Cleat was quick to summarize their current predicament: they were in an old Decepticon War tunnel. Part of the tunnel had collapsed on top of them due to a triggered trap (a motion sensitive one it seemed) and a bulkhead was blocking the way out; it had also trapped some of their equipment behind it. They couldn't turn around, and while they could probably keep going forward with a little digging, she feared going further would trigger more traps and more collapses. They were literally stuck between a slab and a hard place. If he or Scalpel had any suggestions she was open to hearing them.

[Those tunnels are natural, Cleat, just repurposed for the War effort. Every tunnel down there connects to another somehow; they're like a maze of highways. Faction controlled tunnels were trapped in order to keep the enemy from using their little highway on-ramps.]

The big femme nodded. "Aye. And?"

[You might be able to use those traps to your advantage. If one can bring down the ceiling, another could be used to blow you an exit through the floor or wall,] suggested Scalpel.

"That...sounds risky," hemmed the big femme.

[It's safer than it sounds, I promise. I can tell you how to find the traps and safely detonate them.]

The hound's audials pricked up again. She knew how to do that?

[You'd be surprised how many enterprising archaeologists or historians wound up at my clinic because they bumbled into a mine or two. I assumed it would be better to prevent that sort of stupidity in the first place. So I studied a few old 'Con traps to see how they work.]

[You're rad, needle-fingers!] cried Scuffs.

[What you need to look for are mines. They'll work best for this, and 'Cons _loved _using them. If there's not one down there I'll be surprised.]

Cleat nodded. "Aye. We'll have a look-see."

On Cleat's orders, the miners got to work clearing some of the collapsed ceiling. They were careful to move it to create some ballasts for the rest of the roof. Space enough was left for everyone to move past the collapse, albeit one at a time – carefully. Thankfully, they _were_ careful.

Once everyone was safely through, Cleat had the lanky and wiry Seam stalk ahead. Mines, as Scalpel warned, were triggered by pressure. As tiny as Drillbit was, Seam was lighter and thinner and so would not be as likely to trigger one. It was nerve-wracking watching him get farther and farther away, but Scalpel's reasoning proved accurate. Even after he rounded a corner there came no trembling, explosions, or shrieks of pain. After about two breems of anxious waiting, Seam alerted them that he was safe; he had found two big mines that would serve for Scalpel's plan. After Scalpel told him how to disarm them, Groundhog asked if any of the miners had seismic imaging. One, it turned out, did have such a talent, so after Seam assured her the route was safe she was sent to check where another tunnel connected to theirs. She, Earthshaker, eventually reported in that she had found one that ran parallel directly under them. Seam thus laid the mines he had found at her location, and Scalpel told him how to safely detonate them.

Seam and Earthshaker came running around the corner shortly thereafter, just as a loud _ka-BANG_ shook the passage.

[Did that work?] Scalpel demanded.

Seam popped his helm around the corner. "Yup! That's a nice hole in the floor we got."

[Good. Head on in, then.] grunted Groundhog.

"Are we sure it's safe?" the younger femme miner, Earthshaker, wondered nervously.

Willing to possibly take one for the whole team, Cleat lowered herself in and turned her headlights on.

[Not seein' any evidence of it being a War tunnel. Looks safe,] the big femme reported.

The miners went down to join her.

Frostbite leapt in last. Almost immediately he could sense something different about this tunnel. It felt older – much older. A thick layer of rust and dust coated the floor beneath him. There were odd patterns, all geometric, etched into the walls that he had not seen before.

[Well?] wondered Scalpel. [Can you see a way out?]

He was forced to report "No." They'd have to keep looking. This tunnel had to lead somewhere, like Groundhog had said.

[Keep us posted. We'll try to follow your progress from above,] said Groundhog.

Frostbite grunted, allowed Drillbit to hop on for a ride, and trotted ahead. Cleat matched pace with him while the rest of the miners trailed behind. The miners, he noted after a while, started to get a little nervous. That nervousness seemed to be because of the markings on the wall – and they appeared to be getting more numerous the further in they went. He didn't quite understand what about the markings was making them anxious; the markings were actually quite beautiful, even if he had no idea what they were. They seemed familiar in a way too.

He glanced back at Earthshaker. [Nervous,] he noted. It was at once a comment and an inquiry.

"These carvings..." she muttered. "I think we're in a Patterner tunnel..."

[Patterner?] gasped Groundhog. [By the Allspark, I'd give my left arm to be in there with you!]

[Patterner?] repeated Frostbite.

[An old group of 'bots. As old or older than the Cataclysm. Judging by other, much larger markings found covering the planet's surface, those markings must be movements of celestial bodies.]

Frostbite's audials pricked up. So _that _was why some of the carvings seemed familiar. He'd seen parts of such carvings on the surface but had never actually seen them in full; they were simply too big to be appreciated from the ground.

"Then we desecrated this place by blowing a hole in it," muttered Cleat.

[Oh, come now. I'm sure the Patterners would have seen the logical practicality –] Scalpel began but then her voice became garbled.

[Scalpel?] Frostbite wondered.

[Fr – ca – o – it –]

He tensed. Her signal was cutting out. Why?

"We're lower down," realized Earthshaker. "I think all the metal on top of us is starting to cut comm's."

That made sense. He hadn't realized how far down they had gotten; looking back, the slope was so gentle it was almost unnoticeable. And the more they walked onward, the more he noticed they were going deeper down. Growling, Frostbite ran back in the direction they came until he could hear his team demanding his status.

[Am fine. Interference.]

[That's what I figured,] mused Groundhog. [No other tunnels have connected with yours yet?]

[No.]

[I guess you'll just have to keep going, then. One is bound to eventually.]

Frostbite pinned his audials back and whined.

[What's the matter?] demanded Scuffs.

[Problem.]

[Uh...what?]

He was forced to explain. There were rules among Predacons. One of them was the collective agreement that the Underworld of Cybertron (the deeper strata that they were nearing) was hallowed ground. No one was supposed to be there without permission from a dream-walker.

Scuffs groaned, [Dude. Come on. It's just some tunnels. The quicker you move the quicker you'll find an exit, and the quicker you'll be out of there.]

Frostbite found his argument hard to dismiss. That didn't mean he had to like it. Scuffs was asking him to break a scared ruling. But did he really have a choice not to?

Snorting, he turned and trotted back to the other miners. Their anxiety felt like it mirrored his own discomfort. He didn't quite understand still why _they _were anxious though. Only when they reached a split in the tunnel much deeper down that he understood why: Seam jumped and yelped.

[What?]

"T-Thought I saw somethin' moving in there," clarified Seam, pointing a trembling hand down the left split.

Frostbite strained his audials. He could hear...something further down the tunnel, but he could not determine what was causing it. It wasn't being caused by wheels or legs.

"I heard of 'Cons going into some tunnels durin' the War that never came out...Sliders got 'em, they say," Drillbit stated nervously.

He had no idea what a "Slider" was. But their dream-walker and healer, Stormchaser, had mentioned a few times that _things_ lived deep below the surface; they were designed to protect against intruders, so he said, like an immune system, should a Well Guardian ever fail. If his words were true, he told them, they should be safe. They were not intruders in the medical sense. The core would be smart enough to recognize that.

"Let's go right," Seam urged. "We just blew a hole in the floor. If that ain't a way to get tagged as an intruder, I dunno what is."

Frostbite had to give him that point. But Scuffs had been right: the quicker they got out, the less danger they would be in. So, he sniffed. Groundhog had said all tunnels connected in some way. That meant air from the surface would flow in from an exit tunnel, and air from Kaon was always incredibly pungent, rendering it easy to detect even in small amounts. He stood still for a time, "breathing" deeply and holding the captured air in special sacs in his snout for analysis. For a while, he couldn't detect any fresh air. But his patience paid off: a little waft of air came in from the left tunnel. Analysis of it came back positive for the unique blend of particles that came from Kaonian foundry fires. There was a breach to the surface _somewhere _ahead of them, he was certain. How else could that air have gotten in?

Frostbite trotted into the left tunnel, with a tense Drillbit holding onto him for comfort. The miners warily followed after them.

There was no sight of the strange noise-maker until they hit a wide chamber with a narrow chasm spanning it. A giant, lumbering _thing_, accented by blue light, was sliding along ahead of them without the help of legs or wheels, but on heavy treads. It looked like a very chubby, shortened razorsnake blown up to gigantic size – except the head definitely wasn't serpentine; it was short and bulbous, with stalks sticking out of it that seemed to be its eyes. What really caught his attention was the mounted gun on its head – it looked like a heavy mortar launcher.

"A Slider..." Drillbit breathed.

He backed up. He could well understand the miner's fear now. Stormchaser hadn't mentioned the Underworld's creatures were _armed_.

The Slider went ahead into another tunnel.

"Wait, if that thing's got a blaster..." hemmed Cleat, "d'you think we could convince it to blast us a door outta here?"

Frostbite growled. He wasn't sure that would work. If the Slider was a giant equivalent to an immune system nano-machine, like the kind they all had, giving it the capacity to blast down barriers _inside _its host seemed foolhardy. That would only create more damage that energy would need to be expended to mend, not to mention in an actual invasion such a course of action would open up more routes for the invaders to spread.

"Ehh...good point, mutt," admitted Drillbit.

[Come.]

Once the Slider went into another tunnel, he led the miners out of hiding, all the while following the faint trail of smoke-scented air.

But the Slider must have heard them. Behind him, he heard Earthshaker gasp as red light washed over the group.

"Nobody move..." whispered Cleat.

He heard it come rumbling back towards them. The red light got brighter as the Slider came closer for inspection. Worse yet, another came out of a false wall to join it.

Frostbite intentionally trotted up to the one behind them and stood proudly, chest exposed to show the mark of the Well Guardians on it. The Slider's stalk eyes stretched down for a better look. After a few strange, low beeps, the red light switched to blue. That blue light was flashed at the other Slider, which was alarmingly fixated on Seam, Cleat, and Earthshaker's Decepticon badges, after which they began to converse with more beeps. The Sliders eventually came to an agreement. Both turned away from them to resume their patrols.

Cleat let out a sigh of relief. "Nice save."

"I didn't think they'd still count 'Cons as targets," said Earthshaker worriedly.

It was strange, he thought, but he got the sense that, despite them zeroing in on their crests, it wasn't Decepticons they were hunting for. While suspicious, clearly, the Sliders had not been aggressive. But if not Decepticons, then what?

Frostbite sniffed again. The trail came from across the crevasse. [Cross.]

"Looks jumpable," hemmed Seam, "but I'd say a bridge is safer. Anyone see a support strut or pillar or somethin' we could use?"

He heard another Slider trundling along across the chasm. [Idea.]

"What?"

He let out a quick, short yip.

The Slider came as if on command. It must have gotten the same data from its fellows because its eye lights didn't flash red. Instead, the Slider seemed to gauge the problem. When he approached his side's edge, he stretched his neck out and titled his helm curiously. He yipped again.

"What in the heck are you doing, mutt?" wondered Drillbit.

Cleat seemed to guess his strategy. "Not sure it can underst–"

The Slider let out a fast series of beeps, approached its edge, and then laid down flat before rolling itself forward to dangle its upper half across the gap. Hinges locked to keep its upper body from bending.

Frostbite trotted across the living bridge.

Seam burst out laughing. "Good dog!"

The Slider eyed the other miners as if to say "Your turn." Though the others took the invitation gladly, Cleat, being larger and heavier, was far more careful. Once all were across, the Slider then hefted itself back upright, beeped, and continued on its way.

"How'd you know it would do that?" Drillbit demanded, baffled.

Frostbite was, while proud, equally bewildered. [Didn't. Guessed.]

"One of those others recognized you as an ally," Earthshaker remembered curiously. "Maybe these things are programmed to help allies, instead of just ignore them."

"Could be," agreed Seam.

Frostbite and Cleat took the lead again. The tunnel he led them down was lit only by a few crystal growths and faint lights on the ceiling. He was somewhat unnerved that some of the lights above seemed to occasionally blink like eyes. When another miner noticed and put his light up, he very quickly shut them off (with an expression that plainly said "No thanks") after seeing the source: a swarm of little flying drone-like creatures were hanging from the ceiling. They weren't very intimidating though, not like the massive, mortar-toting Sliders. These were almost cute, really, not much bigger than a mini-con, and their three eyes seemed to follow them out of curiosity rather than suspicion. Perhaps they had also received the Sliders' message not to bother them?

The one miner seemed more than happy to scurry through as quick as possible.

The smell wafted in again. Up ahead, the tunnel widened and split into three. The far right one offered another waft. After a few more tunnel switches, he finally noticed the ground was sloping.

"We're going back up," realized Seam.

[-ite! Frostbite can you hear me now?] came Groundhog's voice.

Frostbite's audials perked up. [Groundhog!]

[Finally! I was getting worried!]

[Is anyone hurt?]

"We're fine, Scalpel," assured Cleat. "Whereabouts are we?"

[You're getting close to a bullet train tunnel. Can you hear it?]

A low scream sounded in the distance. He had never been a fan of that sound; it always made his audials want to bleed.

[We'll look for a place to get you out from our side.] said Groundhog.

[With explosions?] wondered an excited Scuffs.

[Hush.]

[Aw. Please?]

[Scuffs, if we can _avoid _blowing a gaping hole in city property, we will,] snipped Scalpel coldly.

[Wh–But you were fine doing that earlier!]

[Because that was _not _official city property. And no, I was not "fine" about blowing a hole in a Patterner tunnel.]

Scuffs grumbled something expletive under his breath.

[Hn. Will meet soon.] grunted Frostbite.

[A'ight! See you in a bit, doggo!] Scuffs chirped.

It took another two klicks of walking before the sound of the bullet train became loud enough to hurt his audials. But at that point, the smell of the outside was just as strong. Eventually, their tunnel dead-ended at a wall. Earthshaker gave it a sideways hit with her trod before declaring the wall too thick to bust through. Judging by the seismic "echo" she'd gotten back, it seemed like a train tunnel was on the other side.

"Maybe try your fangs?" Drillbit wondered.

Frostbite coated his glossa and slathered a healthy dose of liquid nitrogen onto the wall. But not even a heavy blow from Cleat could get the wall to yield.

He growled. He sniffed again. There had to be some kind of ventilation shaft or air duct that was bringing air down. Looking up, he spotted what was most likely the source: it was, indeed, a vent. Was there a way to use those to escape, he wondered?

[Frostbite! We're down! I think we're across from you!] shouted Scuffs.

A loud _BANG BANG BANG BANG_ resounded as someone (probably Scuffs) vigorously slammed the wall in front of them.

"How d'you plan to get us out?" Cleat demanded into her comm. link. "Your friend tried licking it but the slagged wall won't break!"

[Because that's a bulkhead, not a wall. It's too thick for liquid nitrogen to weaken.]

"Well, that's a problem."

Groundhog laughed, [Not for me! Stand back!]

Everyone backed up. He heard Groundhog transform before a terrible screeching whine commenced from the other side. He almost jumped when a spinning drill point broke through the metal. From there, it gladly kept tearing through the wall until a large enough hole was made for them to get through. Then, Groundhog pulled back and transformed.

"Wait, wait, wait. I thought you said we _weren't_ gonna blow a hole in city property?" wondered a confused Scuffs.

"That wasn't blowing a hole, that was drilling a hole. There's a difference," smirked Scalpel.

"Eh, I knew you had a little rebel in you," the younger mech smirked back, pointing at her.

"Drill holes are easier to patch up, at any rate," said Groundhog. He strode up to the hole, grinning. "You guys alright? Must've been quite a trek!"

Groundhog helped the miners over the hole one by one, jovial as ever.

"No thanks to him!" said Earthshake cheerfully. "His sniffer led us all the way here!"

All the miners exited. He and Drillbit went last. Groundhog brought out a big slab of metal and quickly welded the hole shut. He had to assume he had already alerted the maintenance staff to patch it up properly as soon as possible. After that, they walked quickly through a maintenance tunnel. Moments later, a bullet train screamed by just beyond, rattling the walls.

"Apparently he's got a free pass down there, too, doc. Saved us from gettin' blasted apart by Sliders," Drillbit told Scalpel.

"He _is _a Well Guardian," noted Scalpel. "That doesn't surprise me in hindsight. He is as much a part of the core's defenses as anything deeper down."

"Dude! Dude! You know what that means?" gasped Scuffs. "You're not just a regular doggo! You're a _danger doggo!_"

[...What?]

"Danger doggo!" chuckled Groundhog. "I like that!"

* * *

**I promise the Covid-19 thing had nothing to do with the immune system analogous creatures in this. I swear. I started this before this became a thing. I was just working on the fact that if Unicron has an immune system, Primus must have one too. Also, those "Sliders"? They're the giant mecha slugs from the War for Cybertron game. :D They're kind of like hybrid macrophages and T cells in this iteration.**


End file.
